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We sent wine psycho Collin Flatt to Belize in search of the elusive and illegal Viper Rum. That horrifying face tells us he found it, along with a host of other local eats and drinks. More, oh so much more, pics and all, after the jump.

One thing they don’t mention in travel mags and books is that you get a dog when you arrive in Belize. Once I disembarked the puddlejumperthatcould at San Pedro Airstrip, I was greeted by a black dog with a white paint spot on his fur. He had a collar, but no tag. He was somebody’s, but on occasion, anybody’s. I called him Blanco, for any demarkation involving wall paint instantly gives you a nickname. He walked with me to the dock where a boat waited to take me to the northern reaches of Ambergris Caye, my home for the next 8 days.

I arrived in search of food and drink that I only knew by legend. Belize is a young country at 26; only recently legal to drink, but around long enough to die for the good of the land. Three languages are spoken here, English, Spanish, and Kriol. Not French Creole, mind you, but Kriol. Think Island accented English and Spanish together, you’re getting warm. I spoke to the locals in broken Spanish and Phillyish, they spoke back in broken everything. Belizeans speak all three languages, none quite well. Mix of culture makes for good sustenance, though.

The ‘city’ of San Pedro is made up of three streets, Front, Middle, and Back street, all of them active from 6AM on. Most bars and restaurants are open early (around 8-9AM) and close late depending on the day. Some never open because the owner doesn’t feel like showing up that day, making big city bustle slow down a few paces. Take it easy, Yank.

There’s a dart league Wednesday night at Cholo’s on the beach. Saul was my bartender, and the place was devoid of foreigners unless you count ex-pats. We watched pro-wrestling together, and argued the merits of getting drunk before diving with sharks. This is a bar I can get with. $1.50 will get you a Belikin, the official beer of Belize, the only beer of Belize. It’s a high quality light lager that can stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Yuengling, and soundly trounces the big names. An economical choice with style. Tastes like summer’s off, before we had real jobs. Maybe it’s the environment.

$2.50 will get you a Michelada, my new favorite drink. Lime juice, black pepper, Worcestershire sauce, and season salt. Add a Belikin and Marie Sharp’s Pepper Sauce. Bloody Mary can suck it, this is the new Liquid Brunch. Miss Sharp is the hottest lady on the planet, sexy and balanced with a carrot base, there’s actually flavor with pain. Flavorful pain. She’ll be the mistress no matter the marriage. My homeward luggage contained a booty of Marie Sharp’s unlike anything my pantry has experienced. Come over on Sunday for Micheladas, 11AM. Sharp.

The beginning of June marks lobster season in Belize. At one time their greatest export, lobster is dirt cheap this time of year. I spent no more than $10 on grilled lobster while I was there. Ceviche was pitch perfect as all pinchers were caught that morning, and the ‘restaurants’ were ten steps from the water. They stuffed hauntingly succulent lobster into every culinary orifice. Burritos, flautas, tostadas, and for those who don’t care for a floury shell, grilled with butter and garlic. Grilled with jerk spices. Grilled with fucking Belize. Add a little conch to your ceviche, no charge.

Of course, plates and plates of seafood are what you’ll find in a town surrounded by water. Every piece of fish I had spent no time in a freezer or fridge, and most restaurants have a dirt floor. None of these cooks suffered one minute in culinary school, yet knew how to treat seafood proteins on sheer will, tradition, and bloodline. My worst meals were in ‘upscale’ joints, where the food lacked flavor and honesty. I had sushi that was ground up. I thought it was a practical joke and almost sent it back. The eatery had a name that wasn’t eponymous with the owner’s grandmother. Lesson learned.

Street food provided me with daytime energy and late night snacks. Pupusas were the local favorite, a small flour pocket pan fried and filled with cheese, beans and pork. Served with cabbage and hot sauce on the side, it was easily the best $1 I spent, many times over. Originally from El Salvador, the Belizean populace adopted this dish as its own. The sweet senora at Waruguma on Middle street made the best Pupusa, and was open the latest. I visited her at least 6 times I can remember, another 4 or 5 I cannot. In center square was the taco hut, open from 7PM until 4AM. A griddle, a man, his toppings, and his beef. 2 American dollars. I am the only person in history to gain weight on a trip to the Third World.

Blind Tamale Guy gets his own paragraph, shit, should have his own reality show. I met this cat who walked the streets of San Pedro dragging a cooler full of tamales wrapped in banana leaves. His wife gets up every morning at 2AM to start making the tamales, then he rides the ferry into town to sell. Wore dark shades, I bought from him twice. Third time, he struck up a convo and asked about my English. By way of Philadelphia comes my tamaleself and he had never heard of it. Made me happy to be with him. A pretty, young latina walked by and he said ‘Buenos Dias, Bonita’. Jig was up, he’s a fake. ‘No’, he said, ‘I can smell them’. But how did he know she was a looker? ‘Can’t call any woman ugly and expect to sell food.’ My man. He took off his sunglasses to reveal a horrendous scar across his face, leaving him blind. Machete induced, case of mistaken identity. Lost his sight selling tamales. Attackers got the wrong guy. Still selling tamales. My man.

Viper Rum should only be consumed in the presence of Jesus, the Devil, or both during an arm wrestling match. Illegal to make, illegal to sell, illegal to export. PETA won’t be having it. Maruba is home to the infamous potable that is 180-190 proof and contains a viper. The viper is kickin’ and bitin’ when it goes in the moonshine, and over the course of a day, kicks for the last time. The viper remains in the bottle a year or so, then the rum is served as an aphrodisiac. No one speaks of it, no one has it. After the first few glares, I felt dirty even mentioning it. My good friends who helped me smuggle Cuban cigars, rum, and Cashew Wine into the U.S. also got me the Liquid Death. It tastes like a burned snake. You can feel every cut and scrape on your body as soon as you swallow it. A foreigner becomes even more novel when he drinks it, the crowd loves a good sport. Makes for great pictures. Makes for one shot instantdrunkavision. The good news? Nothing will ever be hard to drink again. I have the power of the Viper.

After betting on Chickens Taking A Dump (not a joke), I heard of Stew Chicken, another local dish that comes with Beans and Rice cooked in coconut milk. A full plate cost me $5 and came with coleslaw. Lots of coleslaw and potato salad down there, probably from the European missionaries who came decades ago. Flavored with Marie Sharp’s and tomato base, it reminded me of buffalo chicken, but spread over the whole bird. I would eat this every day of my life, if I didn’t have Pupusas and lobster.

People in the south eat iguanas and armadillos. Alas, only certain days are Belizeans allowed to eat these animals, and they had passed before my scramble home by way of Texas. I’ll make sure to take it in next time. Non-food related activities included swimming with sharks and manta rays, climbing the top of Lamanai, and seeing monkeys and vampire bats in the jungle. Belize – go for the Viper Rum, stay for the best trip of your life.

- Collin Flatt